(Click on the titles to read the poems)

(Click on the titles to read the poems)

Sometimes I get so amazed when I watch the nightThe way stars drop in on the dark bowl of the skyAnd the moon clad in its burnished silver-streaked whitePeeps and hides behind sheep of clouds like a spy

I look at this one sheet of black—a mass of darknessI find it a mystery that suffuses me with fear and horrorFrom its dark hollow space, its endless sea of emptinessCould easily spring out a demon, an imp or a giant ogre

Or something simply wicked, malevolent and evilThat could devour me, consume or take away my soulSo I always peep thru the window to be sure no such devilSpills into the room in its formidable amorphous prowl

I find it hard to imagine how the night comes to be:The ominous silence that keeps vigil in every mini spaceThe opaque black that blinds eyes so that they don’t seeIts black furs and grey paints that make an intricate maze

The night is like a churning sea, an agitating oceanI always see it spilling through the window on the wallSubmerging me in my bedroom in its furious motionSuffocating and choking me up, leaving dead my soul

I get scared to imagine that someone, out of ill intentionMight one night get access to the giant clock of the universeThen hold the gadget from moving, against Deity’s creationShall we live in darkness forever?--what hell shall be for us!

Hanging in this burning emptiness of retribution, betweenDeath and the final dwelling--in this condition of existence--I move stealthily like a cat, perpetually on the balls of hisFeet; with the cat’s impression, indifferent aloofness,My face drooped; in my eyes no light at all. I cry, “I want affliction and fire!”

The soiled hamlet from whence I have come, voices riseTo cry for the pain and torture that my soul bore hereAware that my spirit is not fully independent of the stains of Mundane effects of wrong-doing, its consequences; neither Sufficiently evil to be fated for abyss; but keeps on strengthening Itself in sanctity here

Having no purifications--neither sacrament of baptism, norof penance--my venial sins weigh heavy on my soulI cry for pain, fire, to suffer for the rewards of the divine abode--A Garden of delights. I ask to be relieved of myEarthly baggage; for the pain of joy to be completed, to feel blissful mystery of Him

I find myself in that condition of mind and feelingsWhen reality gives place to reverie and merges withThe shadowy visions of the first stages of purgatorius ignisI’ve carried, on clammy hands, venial sins, to be purgedOf them, being only momentary pain, then soon be on my Way to Olympus

Here it comes, like a clap of thunder, or like a magic spellLight one moment and darkness the next—a big fire!Burning brightly, spreading everywhere. I scream, “burn me!”I hear those assembled in the hamlet from whence I haveCome, singing, raising their sacrifices up for my sake--To be purified.

If I ever offended youDiscuss it with me, dear loveDon’t keep it in the heart for too longLet me know of the mistakeI have made, dear loveThat makes you pale, muteIf I once shouted at youAnd you were flustered, dear loveIt is because I cared, or so I thoughtLet us talk with open mindsOf the flaws, the pitfallsAnd mend the broken fencesBring to an end this silenceAnd hear your voice again, dear loveAs it always came to me.

If I die, don’t cryBecause I would become a rose flowerGrow in your flower gardenAnd exude fragranceYou will pick me during ChristmasDisplay me during birthdaysSmell me during wedding ceremoniesI will be part of youSo, if I die, don’t cry

If I die, don’t be grievedBecause I would become a bumpkin leafGrow in your vegetable gardenPick me for supper in the eveningsCook me in the kitchen at nightsI will be at the dining table with youSo, if I die, don’t be grieved

If I die, don’t moanBecause I will become rainFall down from the skyGather me by the guttersAnd wash kitchen utensils with meI will be in your kitchenSo, if I die, don’t moan

If I die, don’t screamBecause I will become a treeGrow in the corner of our homesteadCut me occasionally for firewoodKeep a heap of me in your kitchenMake fire and cook ugali with meI will be part of the householdSo, if I die, don’t scream